


Private Peace

by curiumKingyo



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: AU, Athene Noctua AU, Fluff, Just a big ol' pile of fluff, M/M, Me playing around in other people's AUs, POV Second Person, Wingfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-12
Updated: 2014-02-12
Packaged: 2018-01-11 04:37:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1168783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/curiumKingyo/pseuds/curiumKingyo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Newt finds a blindspot in the Shatterdome's surveillance system and decides to take Hermann on a relaxing afternoon under the sun.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Private Peace

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pickleplum](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pickleplum/gifts).



> This is a small scene set in the winged!Hermann AU, beautifully created by the immensely talented [pickleplum](http://archiveofourown.org/users/pickleplum/pseuds/pickleplum/), the original story can be found here: http://archiveofourown.org/series/69890

You can barely stay in place as you watch the choppers come closer carrying some precious samples, incessantly shifting your weight form one foot to the other. You are standing in the lower bar of the safety railing, dangerously leaning forward, binoculars pressed against your face. The wind is messing your hair and whipping your tie around but you don't want to leave the rooftop yet. There is some sort of magic in watching the samples come; it is like you are already connecting with them, making their acquaintance.

When the choppers land you sprint down the stairs, barely dodging two innocent passer-bys. Yet, the third one you can't dodge.

"Newt, where the heck were you? The samples are already here!" The person you run into turns out to be Tendo, you slowly peel yourself off his chest and grins at him.

"I was watching them coming."

"But where? Pentecost is fuming down there. I even looked in the security cameras and couldn't find you!"

"Nah, I'm too dashing to be captured in camera." You snicker at him, taking the tablet he offered and reading the official reports on the arriving samples.

He shakes his head and grabs your elbow, steering you in the direction of the warehouse the samples are stocked in. Hours later when you got all the samples in the right places and made a full inventory, you go to the security office and meticulously scann the images provided by the cameras. With a devious smile you realise that you had found a blindspot on the surveillance system. You quietly stores the information for later.

 

\---

 

You know Hermann misses being outdoors. You know he misses the sun, and the wind running over his skin, ruffling his hair and turning his feathers. As you stare into the empty wall in front of you, you rake through the grayscale memories you gathered in the Drift. It became kind of a habit to you, to pick Hermann's colorless memories and fill them with colors. It is just like a coloring book but almost painfully intimate.

In your mind's eye you see really light grey sand, extending infinitely and blending with a soft grey sky filled with white coulds. You see, and feel, Hermann's little feet crunching the sand and splashing into the silvery water. Slowly, the pale grey of the sand turns into golden yellow and the sky above the horizon is the purest shade of blue you can imagine. As the focus of the memory change you see Hermann's little feet and chubby hands and you paint them a healthy tanned color, letting it glisten with the droplets of sea water dripping from his short fingers. The sea is quite tricky, but you remember the deep greenish blue you once saw in a picture and decide it is a good color. From the depths of the sea the teal color rises, getting lighter and lighter until it washes into pearly foam and crystal clear waves around Hermann's tanned little legs.

You are satisfied with your work and smiles proudly at yourself before you realise that there are no more memories of sunny days running in the sand and splashing water around. After a moment of tossing and turning memories around your mind like they were solid objects, you look up at Hermann who was at his usual place at the desk.

"Hermann, may I ask you something?"

His wings move in a way that you now know means he is just finishing a paragraph of his text before turning to talk to you. You wait as he dutifully marks the page he was reading and turns to face you. "What is it?"

"Did you got _all_ of my memories in the Drift?" He frowns and thinks it over for a while before answering:

"I don't believe so. It would be too much information to handle, Jaeger pilots Drift for countless times before they really get everything out of one another." He is about to turn back to his book but pauses and hesitantly asks. "Did _you_... got all of mine?"

"Nah, I don't think so..." You play it cool but that actually brought another question to your mind. "I got big, important things. Actually it is not like I remember everything from my _own life_ , right? I mean some repetitive stuff eventually gets cut off the long term memory." He makes a small agreeing noise and turns back to his book. You fiddle in your spot in the bed and take courage to speak again. "I have this nice memories of a lonely beach, and when I concentrate on it, I can even feel the wind swaying your wings and the sand clinging to your skin. Like some ghost-limb thing..." He is looking at you over his shoulder, wing held thightly against his back to stay out of the way. "But you are really young, and I think it is your mother and siblings there with you; and after this one memory I got no others of this kind. Does that mean that the last time you went to the beach you were like.. eight years old?"

His lips are pressed together so tightly you find it remarkable that he actually manages to open them up to speak a moment later. "I was seven. It was just a few months before my mother _passed away_. And yes, that was the last time I went to the beach. As you can imagine after that my father didn't care enough to take me there again." Something in the way he said "me" and not "us" makes you cringe and you belatedly realise that it probably wasn't a wise conversation to have. The air actually feels heavier now and it seems like there is not enough space in the small room for you to avert your eyes from him.

Tension fills the space and the two of you stay silent for a long while. He is facing his book again but you can tell he isn't reading at all. Suddenly an idea strikes you like lightening and you carefully asks: "Do you have any plans for today, Hermann?"

It takes a while but eventually he says a quiet "No" and you grin and jump off the bed so fast it creaks quite loudly. His head snaps in your direction, frown firmly in place and ready to scold you but you don't give him enough time to open his mouth. Before any words left him you were haphazardly tying your boots and leaving the room.

You take a half step down the corridor before returning, opening the door and sticking your face inside it:

"Stay that way, ok?"

As you walk at a fast pace down the corridor you make a short list of what needs to be done and try to figure how to make it in the shortest ammount of time possible. First stop is at the security office, you greet the guys wroking there and say you are looking for someone and ask to use the surveillance cameras. They agree nonchalantly and keep chatting as you make sure the blindspot is still there. Your face lit up when you find out it is.

Secondly, you go to your own room. You try not to think how weird it is to be back there after such a long time... Quickly you retrieve an old blanket and wrap it around a pillow. You also sling a backpack over one shoulder. You tuck the blanket and the pillow under your arm and go to the next stop: the lab. There you pick a few empty beakers and carefully put them in the packback before heading to the last stop in your itinerary.

You stop by the kitchen and fill the packpack with food: muffins and a few biscuits, and a carton of orange juice. You also stuff a handfull of napkings inside it and take a cookie but shove it in your mouth, chewing loudly on it instead of putting it in the packpack.

You are thankful that the corridors are mostly empty since it is Sunday. As you reach Hermann's room you knock on the door before entering it with a satisfied smile on your face. As you enter you notice that after you left he took the spot in the bed, back against the headboard, wings dropping over his bare shoulders like a feathery mantle.

"What were you doing?" He asks, suspicion thick in his voice.

"I was planning our afternoon!" He stares at you for a few seconds and then just go back to his reading. "Oh, c'mon Hermann! I've got a surprise for you. Just put on a shirt and a ton of sweaters and your shoes and come with me." You can't quite hide the excitement in your voice. You are sure he will love what you planned.

As if to make your point clearer you pick the binder from its place in the wardrobe and toss it at Hermann's feet, and then procced to pick a shirt and sweatervest for him. When you turn with the clothes folded over your arm you are happy to find that he has moved to the edge of the bed and is working the binder around his wings and chest. You put the clothes by his side and silently help him with the binding. You not so secretly love to touch his wings and you're not willing to lose any opportunity to do so.

When he is done, wings binded and covered with two layers of ill fitting clothing, you are ready to go. You smile at him as he opens the door for you. You walk in companionable silence, slowly crossing the halls and going up the stairs, enjoying the occasional brush of your arms against each others. He doesn't ask where you are going, just follows as you lead him through the 'Dome to a simple metal door on the last floor.

"Trust me, you're gonna love it!" You say as you open the door and push it open with your hips. The warm breeze greets you and you make way for him to come outside too. By the look on his face, you infer he's never been to the rooftop before.

The area is wide and open, the concrete floor littered with air vents, power lines and the eventual piece of machinery, but other than that, it was completely empty. The door you just emerged from is the only entrance in this side of the 'Dome, the other ones being beyond the Jaeger bay, hidden by its elevated walls. He stands there looking at you with a softness to his eyes that is still new to you.

"This is a really nice place indeed." He says, walking up to the safety rail and looking at the harbor where Hong Kong met the Pacific ocean. It is still a powerful, but odd feeling, to look at it and know that no more Kaiju will emerge from those waters. All thanks to you.

You let him watch the waves in silence as you retrieve two beakers from your backpack. You close the door and place them right in front of it, so that if anyone happens to open it, the sound of the beakers falling will warn you. You give yourself a mental high five for being so smart and then scan the rooftop searching for the perfect spot to sit and eat your picnic with Hermann.

You are humming to  yourself while carefully extending the blanket on the hard floor, so absorbed in making sure there were no creases, that you don't hear his steps coming in your direction. His polished shoes stop right in front of you before you notice and you smooth the blanket one last time before looking up at him. He is smiling, a small, but undeniable smile on his pale lips. You make a show of fluffying the pillow before giving it to him.

"Take a sit, _monsieur_." You say in a thick, fake, french accent. "I'll be serving you on this lovely day." He shakes his head and rolls his eyes, but the smile never falls from his face. He lays the pillow on the edge of the blanket and sit on it, resting his cane by his side. You get up and bow at him before turning to retrieve the pack of food. "Would you like a glass of freshly made orange juice? Our oranges are organic and picked by hand every morning, _monsieur_." With a flourish you show him the carton of juice, the whole french accent thing making the scene a bit more ridiculous.

"Yes, please. This is a good year for oranges, you know?" He answers, sounding like some sort of orange connoisseur. "The right ammount of rain and sun in the right months." You can easily ignore the little hint of sarcasm in his voice. You fill a beaker with juice and offer it to him with an exaggerated bow.

As he sips on the juice you come around and sit in front of him, taking the muffins and biscuits and laying them over a few napkins. He takes one biscuit and nibbles at it in silence, his head tilted so the early spring sun would bathe him. His eyelashes cast long shadows over his cheekbones and you stare at them for a while before clearing your throat to call his attention.

"Hermann, do you know why I brought your here?"

He frowns thoughtfully and eventually says: "You wanted a free day away from ou... my stuffy room?"

"Also because of this." You say, not quite meeting his eyes. "But I could have dragged you into some park, or the harbor. But I brought you here because this place is _safe_." You try to emphasize the word in a meaningful way. It takes a second or so, but Hermann's expressions changes in what could only be comprehension. "This building is a bazillion feet tall" you continue, "and it faces the sea, so nobody could see us down from the ground."

"And other Shatterdome residents?" His voice is weak and you can see his hand nervously running over the binder hidden under his clothes.

"There are only two doors leading here, one of them is on the other side of the Jaeger bay" you say pointing to the elevation on the rooftop. "The other is the one we came through, and I tripwired it with some beakers. If anyone opens it the glasses will fall and make noise."

He pauses to consider what you've just said. "Cameras?"

"Blindspot!" You explain excitedly. "Remember when there was a power shortage few weeks before we closed the Breach, and half of my samples rot because of it?" He nodded curiously. "Nobody could find me, even when you looked in the surveillance system, right? I was here..." His face is blank but you can _feel_ the whirlwind of thoughts going under that façade. After a long moment of silence you add, in a small voice: "Hermann, it's been so many years, allow yourself this small break..."

This seems to do the trick. His face sets into a somewhat determined expression and he slowly peels the sweater vest off. He folds it neatly and puts it beside his cane before starting to work on th buttons of his shirt. You stand up and come closer, eager to help him free his beautiful wings. As he smoothes the white fabric over his knees you begin to undo the binding around his feathery limbs. It is the first time you see them under natural sunlight and they are stunning. The reddish color shining like copper, the light and shadows playing on the edges of every feather, making the wings look fuller and even more complex.

When they finally unfurl to their full extension, you can barely breath; both you and Hermann sighing for completely different reasons. His is a sigh of contentment, of finally being free and safe. Yours is a sigh of pure bewilderment. Just when you thought you were used to seeing his wings, this happens and makes you stare in wonder like the very first time. He opens them and the warm breeze make the feathers flutter gently and you fight the urge to smooth them. You go back to your spot in front of him and all determination to eat like a normal person and don't stare at him like a starstruck teenager falls as soon as you see his face.

He is swaying slightly, eyes closed and the tiniest smile graces his face. There is a tint of color on his high cheekbones, and that is really distracting. Not quite as much as the way the wind plays with his wings, pulling and pushing them gently, forcing him to adjust minutely every few moments. The words 'beautiful' and 'stunning' are coming dangerously close to you mouth, so you stuff a muffin in it to stop yourself from doing something ridiculous. Hermann opens his eyes after a long moment and look at you, that small smile still lingering on his lips.

"Thank you." He says, and he sounds so genuinely thankful that your heart does a little somersault against your ribs.

"You're welcome, dude." You reply, drowning the need to hug him and pet his wings in the orange juice. He picks a muffin and eats it silently, wathcing a lazy cloud cross the blue sky. You can't help but think that, for him, it is a velvety grey sky and it pains you. You wish he could see the rich color of his feathers, the way they contrast with the paleness of his skin. You wish he could see the blush in your face when he smiles at you even if that was potentially embarassing, but that would mean he'd also be able to see the color of your eyes and how they lit up when he say something clever or funny.

The wind carries the cloud away and blows harder around you, whipping your tie and making it smack your face. He snorts as you angrily toss it over your shoulder and you commit that moment to your memory, forcing it to worm its way to the deeper parts of your brain where you hide your most treasured memories. You make an effort to capture every detail of the scene: the blue sky, the steely ocean roaring on the horizon, the warmth of the sun bathing him as he sits in front of you. Even the taste of the not-so-great muffing will be treasured for the rest of your days.

When the sun finally comes closer to the horizon, coloring the world with oranges and pinks, you decide it is time to leave. You take a last look at his wings, the sunset rendering them fiery, all sharp shades of red and gold. Grieving the loss of the beautiful sight, you help him bind them again. As he finishes dressing you put the napkins and the rest of the food inside your backpack before rolling the blanket again. He offers to carry something to help you out but you dismiss the offer and lead him back inside.

"I'll just drop this stuff back at my room and I'll come back in a minute, ok?" You say as you reach his bedroom door. He nods and enters, and you are happy to notice that his posture is far more relaxed than it has been in a long while.

You jog back to your room and carelessly toss the backpack on a chair before putting the blanket over the bed. It unrolls as you pull the pillow from the middle of the bundle and much to your surprise a reddish-brow feather floats free of the folds of fabric. You take it carefully, bringing it near to your face for closer inspection. You know that the pillows are made of foam, so there was no chance this is a pillow feather. You also know that there were no feathers in the floor where you set the picnic, so it isn't a feather from a random bird that happened to be there.

No, it was indubitably one of Hermann's feathers. By the lenght, probably a secondary feather. It was silky and soft, with a white spot near the round edge. You brush it gently across you cheeks, imagining how it would feel like to bury your face in the crook of Hermann's wings; how good it would be to be able to simply loose your fingers in their softness. The feather smell faintly like him you notice as it brushes close to your nose. You carefully put it inside your breast pocket and leaves for Hemann's room.

When you enter the room, Hermann is back at the desk, one leg folded against his chest, his head resting over the bent knee. He turns at you and smile lightly. "It was a really good day Newton, thank you."

You smile back at him, reaching for your personal notepad. You shuffle the pages and find the one you are looking for: the one covered in drawings of wings. When you were designing the new binder you had to study their anatomy in detail and filled pages and pages of sketches and drawings of them. At the top of the page you wrote 'Athene Noctua' with the best calligraphy you could muster. You gently pick the feather, away from Hermann's eyes, and place it between the pages slowly closing it to make sure it didn't get bent or crooked.

You sit in the bed, knees up to your chest, watching Hermann reading the book he abandoned in favor of going upstairs with you.

You close your eyes, the memory of his smiling face easily coming to your mind. You decide to do a new mental coloring book. With that memory vivid inside your eyelids, you tone the sky to a soft grey that merged with the steel colored ocean down the harbor. The warmth of the sun was still there, but Hermann's wings are shining in cool silver and pearly whites. Unfortunately the blush over his cheeks is lost, but his smile stays just as beautiful as before.


End file.
